Three's Company
by SeamusFul
Summary: (Post-Hogwarts) Hermione, Harry, and Ron decide to share a rusty London flat after leaving Hogwarts. What will ensue? Love? Jealousy? Smelly socks? All that and more!
1. The Decision

Summary: (Post-Hogwarts) Hermione, Harry, and Ron decide to share a rusty London flat after leaving Hogwarts. What will ensue? Love? Jealousy? Smelly socks? All that and more!

Disclaimer: I'm only saying it once, so here it is – J.K. Rowling is the respective author of the Harry Potter series, and owns certain characters and settings used in this story. I am in no way affiliated with her (even though I wish I was so I could bug her about releasing the fifth book).

**Chapter One: The Decision**

" What do you two think? It's a bit rusty, I guess, but I reckon I'll make real good use of it."

Hermione sauntered about the small London flat, her sensible shoes scraping along the dusty floor. Sunlight squeezed its fingers through the crevices of the dirty windows. With each excited step Hermione took, dust bunnies arose and swirled visibly in the beams of light.

" Er –," Ron stood rooted in his spot. He was rather speechless since he, Harry, and Hermione had first Apparated to the front of the building only moments ago. His face, however, showed his confused revulsion. " It's … large?"

Harry couldn't help but smile as Hermione frowned a little. " It's what I can afford for now. I wasn't expecting a grand suite right away, Ron. Selling books doesn't supply me loads of galleons, but at least I'm supporting _myself_."

Ron reddened a bit. He was still living at the Burrow, still eating the breakfast Molly made for him every morning, and still sleeping in his violently orange bedroom. 

Harry kicked the dust at his feet, sending them in a swirl of gray. " Why don't you just find another job? I doubt working at Flourish and Blott's is hardly worth whatever amount of N.E.W.T.'s you got."

" I know," the 18-year-old witch replied heavily. " It's just a starting job, Harry. I'll have a real one soon. You know what I mean, right?"

Harry _did_ know what she meant. Upon leaving Hogwarts almost a year ago, Harry had been bombarded with so many choices that he simply did not know which route to take, so he had, rather reluctantly, accepted a temporary job in the Department of Magical Games of Sports (where he'd received a position from a very enthusiastic Ludo Bagman). Harry had to admit that the people he worked with were a very nice and cheerful lot, but he felt deprived of excitement every day that he went to work at his desk, and was planning on moving on as soon as he figured out what to do. Harry had stayed at the Leaky Cauldron since he left Privet Drive three months ago. It was close to the Ministry Building in Diagon Alley, but like his job, Harry considered the room a temporary ordeal.

Ron ran his index finger along the windowsill, letting the dust collect on it. Hermione scowled towards him, before continuing into the depths of the flat.

Moments ago, the three of them had walked up a narrow staircase and through a door with peeled yellow paint. It led straight into a fairly large, open space, in which half of it was taken up by the kitchen counters, stove, and old-fashioned refrigerator that had accumulated some sort of mold on its tarnished handle. The cloudy window where Ron had swiped his finger was at the end of a row of them, lined up along one wall. 

And yet, Hermione's eyes lit up at the sight of her surroundings. She acted as if the flat were her palace. She entered the narrow corridor that was past the kitchen, where mustard colored wallpaper was peeling. There were three doors, one on her left, one on her right, and one right in front. The first time she came to see her future home, she'd established that the small room on her right was to be her bedroom, and the one straight ahead was to be her study. The door on her left was for the grimy bathroom.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry, being closest to it, pulled it open. He was greeted by a short stout woman with flyaway gray hair to rival Professor Sprout's. Two pudgy, freckle-covered arms stuck out of the sleeveless dress she had slipped on over her pear-shaped body. There was a large crinkle between her eyes.

" You're not the new tenant," she said hoarsely, scratching her nose. It was a simple statement, but sounded bitter to Harry's ears.

" Er, no. Please, come in." Harry let in the woman, who did not even look at him as she waddled into the flat. 

Ron was still in consternation that somebody like Hermione could tolerate such a dump. Hermione, who heard the woman, came out to greet her.

" Hello Mrs. Pill. These are my friends –,"

" They're not going to live here, are they? You three are a noisy lot! Bernard's very upset by it!"

Assuming Bernard was Mrs. Pill's husband, Hermione said, " Oh, we're terribly sorry to disturb you two."

Mrs. Pill had her round, cartoonish hand placed on the large hip that protruded from her spherical body. " I'm here to let you know about the rent, m'dear. It's due the first of _every_ month, and I don't accept it even an hour late." She pointed her stumpy thumb over her shoulder. " You'll leave if there's one problem." She slipped her hand into a hidden pocket within the folds of her dress and withdrew a small slip of paper. " Here's the amount."

Hermione stopped smiling when her gaze hit the paper. She looked up at Mrs. Pill, and with strained politeness, she said, " This is a higher than what you told me yesterday." 

The landlady scowled. " I didn't know _yesterday_ that you'd be this noisy, did you?" She turned and began to walk away, giving Ron a chance to peer over Hermione's shoulder. His eyes widened and he gave out a sort of disbelieving guffaw.

" _For this dump?_" he whispered.

Mrs. Pill whipped around. She might have had ears like a hawk, for she glared angrily at Ron.

" First of the month," she muttered, waving her hands and let herself out. 

Hermione looked like she would collapse, but that was not an appealing idea, as the floor was covered with tick dust. " What'll I do?" she asked, desperately. Her mood had considerably taken a turn. " I'm not going to be able to pay for this – I mean, selling books can only give me so much…"

" Did the cost really increase that much?" asked Harry, perplexed. Hermione showed him the slip, and his eyes widened. He understood what Ron had meant – the flat was definitely not worth all that.

Hermione's shoulder slumped as she began walking around the empty space. " Oh, I really wanted the place too. I mean, yes, it's a bit… dirty, but I've grown quite attached to it. And now this…" she flailed her arms. " Oh, I hate that landlady."

Harry sympathized with Hermione, even though he couldn't figure out why _anyone_ would like such a dump like this flat. " I could lend you some money, Hermione. You could consider it a loan or something…" Harry had no idea how to use proper banking terms. 

A slight smile appeared on Hermione's face. " Oh, don't bother Harry. It'd take me forever to pay you back, and then it would be like _you_ were paying for the place, not me."

As if someone muttered _Lumos_ in his mind, and idea popped up like a light. " Hermione, I bet I _could _pay for this place."

Hermione eyed him questioningly. " What?"

" I could – I could help you pay the rent," he started. He began pacing like Hermione was and considered his sudden thought very carefully. The words spilled out of his mouth before they even processed. " I could live here with you."

Ron's eyes practically bulged out of his head. " Are you mad?" he asked, his ears turning pink.

" Why would he be?" asked Hermione, although she asked it a bit skeptically. " Do you realize what you're suggesting?"

" Yeah, I guess it is pretty ridiculous," Harry answered, scratching his head.

Ron gave a dry laugh. " Er, yeah."

Hermione held up her hand. " Now wait a minute. I can give you, for a bedroom, what I was planning on making my study. And the flat _is_ fairly large. Besides, you need a place to live, right?" she directed the latter to Harry, who half-shrugged and nodded. 

" No, _you_ wait," demanded Ron. " Do you realize what you're suggesting? You and Harry will be _living _together, depending on each other, like a family…"

Hermione gave a heavy sigh. " The thing is, Ron, I _really_ want this flat." The desperation in her voice was back. " _Really_. And it looks like in order for me to afford it, I might have to share it with someone. Harry needs a place to live _and_ he's my friend. It – works out, doesn't it?"

Ron's narrowed eyes darted from Harry to Hermione and back to Harry. 

Harry began to understand Ron's reaction. " Listen," he said, shaking his head. " I don't make a lot of money either… and we'd still need money for food and furniture and er, something to fix up this place."

Hermione's eyes met Harry's, and suddenly, understanding shot through their gaze. " Oh, right." Her face grew visibly pinker. " We might need another flatmate."

Harry smiled at Ron apprehensively. Hermione was running the toe of her shoe across the floor, making a line in the dust. 

Again, Ron glanced from one friend to the other. " I'll move in with you," he piped. To diminish his tone of cheerfulness, he added, " I mean, I can't live in The Burrow forever."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief, and a huge smile cracked upon her face. She hugged Ron. " Oh, thank you." She let go and approached Harry to hug him too. " Thank you," she repeated. 

Eyeing the piece of paper that was still clutched in Hermione's hand, Harry asked nervously " Er, who's going to tell Mrs. Pill?" 

* * * * *

A/N: The decision has been made! Harry, Hermione, and Ron will _live_ together! Now, the story can unfold. What will ensue? 


	2. Ludo Bagman's Bet

A/N: Thank you, everybody who reviewed! The disclaimer is posted in chapter one. 

This chapter is dedicated to Perry and her Irishman, Seamus. 

Chapter 2: Ludo Bagman's Bet 

" No, Crookshanks. Geroff."

Ron swiped his hand in agitation at the ginger bottle-tailed cat that had hopped up onto his box marked _Ron's Stuff_. Crookshanks arched his back threateningly. 

" Ron!" 

Hermione's voice carried from the foot of the steps. Ron had only made two trips up and down the stairs, and his boxes – both of them – were already settled in the flat. Hermione had arrived an hour earlier than him and she moving her boxes, sweat drops adorning her determined face. 

She sighed with relief when she saw Ron's foot appear from the top of the stairs. " Can you please help me carry this?"

Ron smirked when he saw the box she was having trouble with – a very large cardboard one marked _Books (#3)._

He lightly pushed her aside to pick it up. " Number 3? Am I going to have room to sleep?" He lifted it, only to drop it with an enormous bang on the floor.

A small screamed escaped Hermione's lips. " _Be careful_!" she shrieked. 

A door squeaked open at the end of the hall, and protruding from the opening was a disgruntled round face. " What is all this noise? Bernard is very bothered."

" Sorry," Hermione muttered. When Mrs. Pill disappeared, Hermione shot a reprimanding glance at her friend. 

" Well, it isn't my fault her ears pick up every breath I take. When I was upstairs, she banged the ceiling every time I stood up and walked." He sighed. 

" Be careful with my _books_. I think I have _Hogwarts, A History_ in there (Ron groaned), and it's very old and practically deteriorating." She whipped around and started up the stairs. 

Ron dug his fingers beneath the box, attempting once again to carry it. " Maybe that's because you had it glued to your hand in all your free time back when we were in school. Why don't you just throw it out? You've already memorized it."

Hermione chose to ignore him and continued up the stairs, leaving the rest of the boxes for him to carry. She entered the flat and glanced around, a very refreshing sense of freedom washing over her. Her stomach flipped over a few times at the prospect of having her own flat, paying the rent, and taking the loads of responsibility that came with finally being an adult. 

Ron appeared moments later, completely out of breath. He relieved himself of his burden with a loud thud, causing the dust on the floor to fly everywhere. Just as expected, Mrs. Pill prodded her ceiling from below with something solid only seconds later.

" Ron! I told you to --,"

Ron waved his hand carelessly. " There's two more downstairs. Where's Harry? Shouldn't he be here by now?"

" He's at _work_," answered Hermione. Ron scowled, expecting another reprimand. However, Hermione turned back to face the dirty windows. She seemed too happy and distant to scold him today. " We have to do something about these windows – they're covered in grime. I'll go to Diagon Alley to pick up a Magical Mess-Remover."

Ron seated himself on the plushy sofa – the only piece of furniture currently in the room. " Where am I going to sleep? I thought we only had two rooms."

" Oh, right." Hermione leaned against the kitchen counter, looking pensive. " I suppose somebody can sleep out here. On the couch, I mean. Now that I think about it, does Harry have a bed?"

" I don't think so," Ron answered, poking some stuffing back into a small hole on the sofa. " He's been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, hasn't he? I think that means he has no furniture for himself."

" Well then, he can sleep on the couch. And I guess you can take the bedroom."

" But, I don't have a bed either," said Ron, turning pink.

Hermione was hesitant to ask why. There were a number of reasons as to why Ron wouldn't have a bed. 

Ron answered the unspoken question. " I sold my furniture to pay the rent. All I have are my… Chudley Cannons sheets," he grinned sheepishly, causing a small smile to erupt on Hermione's face, in spite of herself. 

" I guess you could take turns with Harry or something… and meanwhile…"

" – sleep in the bathtub?" Ron finished sarcastically. 

" Sleep on the floor, Ron. Just spread your sheets out."

With one glance at the nearly rotten wooden floorboards, Ron gave Hermione a horrified expression. " Can't we just share the bed?" he tried, the adorable grin returning to his face. 

Hermione's smile dissolved. " Ron…"

" I'm kidding you. Really." He jumped from the sofa. " Let's get the rest of the boxes up here shall we?"

* * * * *

" Harry, Harry, Harry!"

Ludo Bagman's hand clapped on Harry's shoulder enthusiastically. With a forced grin, he faced his boss. " Good morning, Mr. Bagman. How's everything?"

" Good, good," he answered, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Harry was inured to the fact that Ludo had a habit it being very repetitive with his words. Those Bludgers really messed with his mind. " I was thinking Harry…"

Harry nodded, encouraging him to continue. At Ludo's old age, he sometimes forgot he had started a sentence. 

" Let's have a drink after work! It's card game night at the Leaky Cauldron!" Ludo's smile grew increasingly wider, practically scaring the wits out of Harry. 

" Oh, I can't," he answered truthfully. He had promised to come home straight after work to help settle into the flat with Ron and Hermione. 

" Aw, come on. You can come and place some bets, and just go upstairs when you're tired."

" Well, that's the thing, Mr. Bagman. I don't live there anymore – I moved into a flat with my two friends."

Ludo, for whatever reason, looked even happier than ever. " You don't mean Ron and Hermione?" Harry's life was not a very private one, and it didn't help that almost everybody in the office was nosy enough to rival his Aunt Petunia. Also, Ron and Hermione visited his office very often, Hermione to go out to lunch with him and Ron to see if he could somehow mooch Quidditch tickets off of his friend. 

" Yeah, we've got a flat out in Muggle London," answered Harry proudly. 

" No kidding?" he looked rather surprised. " Does this mean you _and_ Ron are living with Hermione? In the same flat?"

" Yes…" he answered slowly, trying to comprehend the unreadable yet jovial expression of Ludo's face.

The old man chuckled. " Harry, Harry, Harry," he started, shaking his head. " That will lead to trouble, and you know it!" 

Harry forced a small laugh. He hoped others would not react this way. In fact, he doubted it. Ludo just didn't know what he was talking about.

Bagman leaned in closer to Harry. " You didn't move in with her for any _specific_ reason, did you?"

" No."

More chuckling ensued. " Are you bothered that Ron's there?'

" _No_."

" Really, really?"

" Yes," said Harry with a sigh. " I have to get to work, Mr. Bagman."

No sooner had he reached his desk by the window in the far corner when a group of rowdy Irishmen emerged from the side door. 

" Harry!"

Harry saw a sandy-haired figure approaching him. He was wearing black Quidditch robes with a scarlet bat pasted across the chest – robes he recognized as those of the Ballycastle Bats. 

" Seamus?" Harry laughed and shook hands with his former classmate. He knew Seamus was a player for the Northern Irish team, but had not seen him in quite a long time. He noticed Seamus had sprouted more freckles, possibly a result of playing Quidditch out in the sun everyday. " How're you doing?"

" Good, as you could probably tell." Seamus waved his hand toward his boisterous teammates, who were crowded around Ludo Bagman and shouting jovially. "We're here to negotiate an agreement for the team's advertisement for Butterbeer. Do you work here?"

Harry nodded ruefully. He rarely took pride in his job, and now facing Seamus in all his glory, tanned and wearing the robes of the second most successful team in League history in which he was planning to advertise the most popular drink in the wizarding world, he felt quite self-conscious to say he worked as a lowly office assistant in the Department, growing increasingly whiter for every hour he sat at his desk.

" Harry!" Ludo Bagman shouted within the horde of people. He was clutching a folder, and approaching him. " I'm promoting you!"

" Really?"

" Well, not right now." Harry's face fell, but Ludo hardly took notice. He handed him the folder. " I want you to handle the negotiations between the Ballycastle Bats and Butterbeer."

Harry accepted the folder in utter consternation. He'd never been given any sort of task that was actually worth this much. 

" Anyway, I'll give you the raise if you do it." He clapped his hand on his shoulder again. " I have faith in you, Harry!"

He walked away, or rather was carried by the team to his office. Seamus gave a final wave and followed them.

Harry stood rooted in his spot, wondering what sort of work he'd have to do to 'negotiate'. He opened the folder and was greeted with a bunch of unfamiliar documents. He found it ominous that Ludo would just drop this bomb on him. Perhaps Ludo was just lazy and didn't feel like doing the work himself. Scowling, Harry seated himself at his desk and poked his wand at the surface to burn small holes.

* * * * *

Harry stopped by Flourish and Blott's after work, feeling unexpectedly fatigued as a result of the immense workload that had been given to him.  

Hermione was shelving several volumes of spellbooks. She spotted Harry and waved. 

" Let me get my bag."

Hermione emerged from the back room moments later. Harry saw a large bulk protruding from her bag. 

They stepped out onto Diagon Alley. Dusk had fallen upon the sky, and Harry saw several other employees emerging from their stores and lock their doors..

" Did Ron stay home all day?" Harry asked. He lifted up his glasses to rub his nearly closing eyelids. 

" Yes," answered Hermione, visibly scowling. " I wish he'd get a job. It's really important that he does now, considering we need rent money."

Harry was reminded of his possible promotion, and told Hermione about it. 

" Really? That's great for you, Harry."

" I don't know," he answered, staring far ahead of him. " This isn't what I want to do for a living."

Hermione gave a dry laugh. " Like I said, I don't expect to sell books all my life either. But we've all got to start somewhere, right? What _do_ you want to do then?"

Like every other time he heard the question or asked it to himself, he came up with no clear answer. 

They reached The Leaky Cauldron, and went inside to go into the Muggle London street on the other side.

The air inside was very humid and hot. Smoke and the distinct scent of sweat permeated the air. Harry saw somebody wave from the corner - it was Ludo Bagman, some teammates of the Ballycastle Bats, and a few of Harry's co-workers. They were crowded around a single table, where a bunch of cards lay.

" Care to sit down with us?" shouted a very red-face Bagman.

Hermione glanced at Harry, who shook his head. " We have to get back home. Maybe some other time," he shouted over the noise. Hermione looked quite relieved. 

Bagman shrugged. An explosion of laughter erupted from the drunken group amassed around him, and Bagman eagerly looked at them to find out why.

Harry and Hermione made their way through the small pub, declining an invitation to drink from Tom, the innkeeper. 

When they had stepped into what was now the cool night air, and the door closed behind them, Ludo Bagman leaned forward into the group and in his drunken state, said with wink and a furtive hiccup, " 20 galleons says they'll get together." 

* * * * *

Ron jumped when he heard the door open behind him. He had spent the entire day on the sofa, and found himself to be so bored that he began reading _Hogwarts, A History_. Currently, he was as far as fifteen pages into it.

" Did you bring any food?" he asked the moment his flatmates set foot through the door.

Hermione shot him a scowl. " What do you _mean_? I said that was your responsibility."

Ron looked pensive, as though trying to recall this. " Did you?"

" _Yes_."

He shut the book, set it on the sofa, and stood up. " You said on your way out the door, 'I'll get the food'."

" No," she started slowly, " I said, ' _Get_ the food'."

Harry intervened. " Do we _have _any food?" The other two simultaneously shook their heads. " All right then. We'll go out and get some."

Hermione sighed as Ron hopped over the back of the sofa. As he approached he and Hermione exchanged death looks.

They stumbled down the dark stairway. After being yelled at by Mrs. Pill, they stepped out onto the London street. 

The street in front of their run down building was far from busy. It seemed to be a much older section of the city. Gas lamps adorned the corners only, and in the dim light, the three of them could just barely make out silhouettes of the things around them.

" Where do we go now?" asked Hermione. " Do you think we should go to a restaurant?"

" A what?" piped Ron's voice.

" Er --- I don't think we have a lot of money, Hermione," Harry answered sheepishly.

Well, it was true. The meager salaries of Hermione and Harry alone could hardly help pay for a sufficient dinner at a decent restaurant in Muggle London.

" I've got it!" Ron exclaimed. Hermione felt his hand brush her shoulder. " Let's Apparate to the Burrow."

Hermione tutted. " You've got to be joking, Ron. You moved out for a reason, you know."

" Come to think of it, why _did_ I move out? I was getting free meals everyday, I didn't need a job…"

" Because you're _eighteen_, not twelve!" Hermione screeched. " It's time you took responsibility for yourself, and on your _first_ day of taking care of yourself, you suggest we go back to the place you just left!"

Hearing their conversation didn't in any way sustain Harry's hunger, and he quickly told his friends so to interrupt their petty argument. Ron and Hermione apologized immediately.

" We can just go to the Leaky Cauldron," Ron suggested.

Harry remembered greeting Ludo Bagman just a while ago. No doubt Hermione remembered too, because she said hastily, " Let's just go to the Burrow! But just this once, Ron."

Ron nodded, although nobody saw in the semi-darkness. The three of them held their wands steady, and in a split second, they were gone. 

* * * * *

A/N: Hmm… the Burrow. What will happen when they get there? And another question now hangs in the air! Will Ludo Bagman win his bet? 


	3. The Encounters With Miss We

Chapter 3: The Encounters with Miss We

" SEX, DRUGS, AND BEER!" shouted Hermione.

A/N: Good. Now that I have your attention, I've got something to say. My friend, Perry (daWOODisONfire) and I run a Harry Potter related website. We started it pretty recently, and we've had +1000 hits. Anyway, we're interested in archiving some fanfiction, so if you are interested, please don't hesitate to send it over. We've already had some offers, and we'd love some more! Okay, that's all. On with the story, and I'm sorry, Hermione, for forcing you to use such atrocious language.

Mrs. Weasley, though initially surprised, was pleased that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had come to visit. Thus, the three had proceeded to stuff their faces with potatoes, pie, meat, and pudding. Ron could hardly help himself from shoveling the food in, despite the looks he got from his mother.

" I'm so glad you came to visit," said Mrs. Weasley, putting more dishes on the table. " Although, you _do_ realize, Ron, that you have to take responsibility for yourself more. I assume it was _your_ idea to come here?"

Ron nodded, chewing quickly. 

" It isn't that I mind, you know." She nodded towards Harry and Hermione with her rosy smile, then fixed her gaze on Ron. " Do you have a job yet?"

Ron hesitated in answering, and was fortunately interrupted when somebody walked into the kitchen.

" Harry!" 

Fred and George approached him and slapped him on the back … hard. Through choking, Harry managed a smile. 

" 'lo Hermione," they greeted her jovially. 

" Guess what Harry," started George, placing himself next to a disgruntled looking Molly. " We've finally gotten word of an opening in Diagon Alley."

The twins had opened their joke shop upon leaving Hogwarts, but due to lack of better space, they were forced to place it in an inconspicuous part of Hogsmeade, near the Shrieking Shack. No doubt that compared to the massive reputation of Zonko's, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was quite inferior indeed. The store did not do well, and the business closed within two years with more debts than profits. They'd been living in the Burrow ever since.

" Now we can build in a place without any other joke shops nearby. We'd have more customers more often anyway. Zonko's only makes a profit on Hogsmeade weekends."

" And you two can finally get out of the house," added Molly firmly. " No more losing sleep for me because some kind of concoction suddenly blew up on my linen tablecloth."

" Aw Mum," Fred inquired. " It was only once."

Molly hmphed, shook her head, and gathered more plates from the table, muttering about the ridiculous price of linen.

Although Harry offered to help clear up the table, Mrs. Weasley insisted Harry sit and enjoy himself, so he did. It was nostalgic and relaxing for Harry to sit in the warm, cramped kitchen of the Burrow and discuss Ireland's newest Quidditch strategies with the twins and Ron. It was just like the summers back when he was at school. Thinking about the past made him feel somewhat warm inside.

To make his nostalgia complete, another Weasley walked into the room. The only difference was, this time, she didn't squeak. Well, at least not as loudly. 

" Gin! Look who's here!" Fred shouted with a hint of a teasing tone. 

Her facial color identical to that of her hair, Ginny approached the table. " Hi," she said quietly. She gave a tiny wave towards Hermione, who smiled.

" Ginny just came home today," said George. 

Harry spoke up. " Oh, really? How was your year?"

" Good."

Harry nodded a bit and silence ensued. Fred's eyes darted from Harry to his sister, whose red face was slowly turning back to normal.

" So, Ginny. Are you thinking about any jobs?" asked Hermione. She had been rather quiet the entire night. Her elbows were on the table with her hands clasped together elegantly, her chin propped up on them.

Ron raised an eyebrow. " Why do you care so much about everybody having jobs?"

Hermione's features on her face went slightly rigid. " I was asking Ginny."

" I was thinking - ," Ginny interrupted, " – maybe start somewhere small, because I don't know what I want to do."

" Well that's what Harry and I are doing too," answered Hermione.

Ron slouched back in his chair and drummed his fingers softly on the wooden table. He looked menacing and his eyes seemed to avoid Hermione and her general vicinity. 

" So Ron. You're a bit slow on the uptake, aren't you?" said George. "Why don't you get a job?"

" I _will_."

" Look," started Harry. " Maybe we should head back to the flat." He realized, however, that being alone with Hermione and Ron was not a prospect he was looking forward to, but he also didn't want to be bothersome to Mrs. Weasley. 

Hermione and Ron stood from their chair simultaneously. They did not utter another word to each other, and after proper goodbyes, the three Apparated back to London.

* * * * * 

Hermione kicked her sheets with agitation. The peach colored fabric was intertwined through her legs, and she was half tangled within them.

And yet, the more she kicked, she realized, it wasn't the sheets she was angry with, but herself.  

Or maybe it was Ron, she didn't know. She somehow couldn't stand that the boy refused to simply get off his arse and get a job. Was it so difficult? She rolled onto her stomach and felt the mattress through the sheets on her cheek. Every night – she always thought of Ron, and she didn't want to. She wasn't stupid – she knew the attraction was there. But how was she to act on such a thing if they were on such terrible, tense terms with each other? 

With one final kick, she peeled the sheets off of her body, and headed out of her bedroom with the intention of making some nice, warm tea.

Hermione went into the kitchen, where she saw Harry wrapped up in blankets and asleep on the floor. She tiptoed around him to the cabinet for a teacup.

" Hermione?"

A groggy voice sounded from the living room. Hermione looked up to see Ron sitting up on the sofa, his ginger hair tousled. He was rubbing his eyes, and for a guilty moment, Hermione thought she had woken him up.

" I just --- thought I'd have some tea. I couldn't sleep," she told him as though he had accused her of some crime. 

Ron, to her surprise, grinned sheepishly. " Me neither."

" Oh," said Hermione, relieved. " Do you want me to make you some tea too?"

" No, I've got something else to help me fall asleep."

Ron picked up _Hogwarts, A History_, which had been sitting on his lap.

Hermione _glared_, to which Ron reacted to in mock sadness.

Abandoning the idea of tea, she approached the sofa. " Ron… I'm sorry I was harsh to you all day."

Ron shut the book and faced his friend. " Yeah, you were pretty mean."

" Ron…"

" Yes, yes, I know. It's all right, Hermione."

His friendly and forgiving demeanor encouraged Hermione to continue. " No, really. I don't mean to take out my anger at you."

Ron patted the space next to where he was sitting, and Hermione obliged. " What have you got to be angry about?"

Hermione hesitated. " Well, lots of things…" She kneaded her knuckles on the moldy surface of the sofa and wondered what had compelled her to confess this way. " I'm not, er, very _fond_ of my job, for a start."

" At least you have one," Ron said, raising an eyebrow. 

Hermione began to grow a bit agitated again. " And then there's _you_, Ron. You have such a comfortable life. You don't feel pressured to go out and get a job. You act like you don't care at all how your future ends up…"

" That's unfair, Hermione," Ron interrupted quietly. " I _do_ care, you know. I just ---,"

" It's important that you find one _now_, Ron. I know you've only been out of the Burrow one day, but you left Hogwarts a full year ago! And you've spent that whole day sitting on this sofa reading my book. Your family isn't with you to support you anymore. I figured you of all people would understand the importance of income. You used to always say you wish you had more money, and now that you have the opportunity to get some, you're wasting your time. Well, Harry and I have jobs, whether we want to or not. We've learned to support ourselves and we're supporting each other. We're supporting _you_, and you should do it back."

Ron stayed silent. Hermione waited and watched as he blinked several times at her before he tore his eyes away. 

" Wanna play chess?"

Hermione opened her mouth. _That_ had caught her completely off guard. She wanted to yell, to throw her fists at him. But she knew there was nothing more to be said. 

" Alright."

* * * * *

Harry walked into work, feeling hardly enthusiastic.

" Harry!" Ludo Bagman's cheerful shout carried over to him, and in an instant, he was at Harry's side. " How are things at the flat? You and Ron getting along?"

Puzzled, Harry answered his boss, " Erm, yes."

" Good, good…" Ludo's eyes grew a bit misty. He patted Harry on the back and said in a lowered voice, " And you and Hermione? How are you two?"

Perhaps it was just in Harry's imagination, but he thought a sudden hush spread throughout the office. He felt remotely uncomfortable and saw, in the corner of his eye, Ludo's secretary peering over a stack of papers and staring intently at the two of them.

" We're getting along just fine Mr. Bagman," Harry answered. 

Ludo plastered a big smile on his face and Harry saw what he thought was relief pass over his face. " Good, good…" his boss repeated. " Now get to work on those negotiations!"

Harry groaned inwardly and approached his desk in the corner by the window, where he was greeted by a fresh pile of documents. Who knew butterbeer negotiations needed so much work? 

Harry opened his window wide, letting in the soft breeze and the noise from Diagon Alley. He plopped down on his chair, sinking into the velvety material. As he reached for the paper on the top of the pile, his eye caught something bright red outside on the street one story below him.

Harry stood up and peered out onto Diagon Alley. It seemed a bit more crowded than usual, and Harry saw that this was because lots of younger children were running around. He recollected his encounter with Ginny the previous night at the Burrow, and remembered that another Hogwarts term had ended. 

His eyes scanned the area until he spotted his distraction: the fiery top of Ginny's hair. 

She seemed to be ignoring the store windows. She was walking with uncertainty, pushing gently through the horde of people coming in her direction. Harry saw her half stumble on the cobblestones that jutted out of the street. She swerved around a running little boy and reached the door of the Ministry building almost directly below Harry's window.

Perhaps she was visiting her father, Harry thought. He resumed his task.

Ginny Weasley ran her finger down the sign in the lobby. She stared anxiously around her at the important looking Ministry members strutting to and fro around the marble floor, carrying documents and expensive dragon-hide briefcases.

Ginny found the word "Department of Magical Games and Sports" and ran her finger sideways, confirming that it was the office on the second floor. 

She didn't know why she was there. She walked down the corridor cautiously to prevent too much of an echo from her shoes. Perhaps he was imagining it, but the portraits were staring pointedly at her, the girl with untamed hair wearing worn down Muggle clothing.

Ginny walked up the stairs, repeating what she'd say to Harry over and over in her mind like a broken record. She found herself at the double doors leading into the office before she knew it. Ginny breathed and pushed through.

Almost instantly, Ludo Bagman was at her side. " Hello there! How can I help you?" he boomed enthusiastically.

_They must not get many visitors here_, she thought. " Is, erm, Harry Potter here?" she asked timidly. 

Ludo's expression suddenly grew suspicious and he visibly bit his lip. " Well, he works here. Who -- ," he squinted at her as though she were hard to see. " Who are _you_?"

" Oh, I'm Ginny. His friend." She didn't know whether _friend_ was the correct term to use, however. 

" _Friend_?"

Ginny felt a lurch in her stomach. Perhaps _friend_ was too strong a word. Perhaps Ludo was skeptical because he didn't expect somebody like Harry Potter to associate with people like Ginny, standing there meekly in her raggedy attire.

Ludo coughed, though Ginny knew it was fake. 

" Ginny?" she heard a voice call from afar.

Harry, to his displeasure, found that opening his window had been a big mistake. Sure, the breeze had been nice, but one came a bit too strongly, causing a few of the ones on the top of the pile to glide smoothly out the window.

Harry slammed down his quill and watched as the documents fluttered like large butterflies, carrying themselves in the midst of the fresh summer wind. He grew more and more agitated as he saw some slowly settle on the street, only to be abruptly run over by a stampede of feet. 

Harry got to his own feet and turned towards the door. His eye caught that familiar flash of red.

" Ginny?"

Ginny, who was standing next to Ludo Bagman, turned to him and smiled sheepishly. " Hi Harry."

Ludo Bagman looked from Ginny to Harry and back to Ginny. He cleared his throat. " I'm sorry – Ginny, was it? Harry's a bit busy at this moment. Perhaps you could come back." Rather than sounding rude, Ludo sounded worried.

" Actually, my papers just flew out onto to street, so I need to go get them."

" Oh, I'll help you," Ginny offered. She turned on her heel and opened the double doors, glad to get away from Ludo. 

She and Harry stepped out into the corridor and started down it. " So, Ginny. What brings you here?" 

Ginny opened her mouth and stared at the wall ahead of her. She knew the question was inevitable, knew since the moment she'd stepped into the building. She realized she still hadn't thought of a legitimate answer. " Erm, I was just in the area. I thought I'd come see where you work." She grinned at him, inwardly proud of her brave self.

They started down the stairs, Ginny's curls bouncing on her bare shoulders. " It's not much to see," Harry admitted sheepishly. 

" Well…" Ginny glanced over at Harry. His green eyes were set on hers, his face in a bemused sort of expression. Ginny saw his usual summer tan was not so obvious, but his raven hair all in its disarray and the mysterious scar that hid furtively beneath his bangs still made him attractive nonetheless – or perhaps he would always remain that way in Ginny's eyes. She found herself blushing at her thoughts, trying to control the pangs of lust that had been running through her veins for over seven years. " I thought maybe if you weren't busy we could go to lunch or something."

Harry glanced at his watch. "At 9:00?"

" Late breakfast?" said Ginny in her attempt at recovery. Boy, did she feel stupid.

Harry grinned. " Sure."

They walked across the marble entrance hall that Ginny felt considerably better walking across with Harry Potter at her side. 

Outside, the sun was starting to slowly bake the cobblestones that adorned the street. Harry spotted one of his papers near the opening of the gutter and grabbed it. 

Ginny and Harry spent the next few minutes trying to recollect Harry's papers. Most of the ones Harry found were simply pieces and fragments, once crucial for the negotiation process and now made useless. Harry tried to piece them together, but he seemed to only find one small piece from each document.

Ginny was having little luck as well. They finally gave up when no papers were in sight. Ginny handed what she'd picked up to Harry, who looked considerably disappointed. Ginny felt his hand brush hers and immediately looked up at his face. She saw no visible reaction. Not wanting to lose him, she spoke up. " Still want to go to that late breakfast?"

Harry smiled this time, laughing a bit. " I can't. I have to go back up."

" Alright," she replied. She found his smile alone assuaged the rejection. " I guess I'll see you around."

" Hey, come by the flat sometime, alright?" Harry grinned a little and headed back into the building.

Ginny's blood ran faster in her body. Had Harry just asked her to come by the flat? Where he lived? She walked unsteadily through the crowd, pushing through the horde of witches and wizards who always seemed to be walking in the opposite direction she was. Ginny was unable to wipe the smirk off of her face. 

* * * * *

A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the delay. Thank a _million_ to you wonderful readers and reviewers, and I promise to release the next chapter sooner than I released this one! Don't forget to check out my site: geocities.com/hot_harry_potter


	4. Another Skeeter?

**Chapter 4: Another Skeeter?**

Mrs. Pill's door slammed shut in Hermione's face on the first of the month on that bright sunny morning. She had just handed in her first rent check, but it had not been an easy feat to let go of that envelope.

" We heard yelling," said Ron when Hermione stepped into the flat. Harry and him were setting the table.

" She miscounted at first and got real angry. I thought she was right and nearly had a heart attack." Hermione leaned her back against the door, sighing. " And then she went off on how much noise we're always making."

Harry rolled his eyes. " We walk on tiptoe up here."

" Too true. That lady's mad," Ron inquired. She set the fork down and clapped. " Let's eat."

Hermione had used the stove to cook a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon, and toast. They seated themselves in their chairs.

" So Harry, how are the Butterbeer negotiations coming?" Hermione asked. Mealtime had habitually become the time for small talk among the three.

" Alright, I suppose. There's photo shoot today for the Ballycastle Bats, I heard. It'll be in the Daily Prophet - they'll all be holding butterbeers in their hands."

Ron scooped a mound of scrambled eggs onto his plate. " When're you gonna get us Quidditch tickets, Harry?" 

Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry laughed. " When I can," he answered. " With the negotiations, I don't even have time to go to a Quidditch match."

" I think you should just do Quidditch for a living, Harry. I reckon you could!" Ron told him excitedly.

" You know," said Hermione, spearing the bacon with her fork, " People who play sports are much healthier than those who don't. They have a slower average pulse rate."

" Quidditch players get loads more galleons too," Ron added. " And everybody'd want you – you're Harry Potter. You were practically a Quidditch legend back at Hogwarts." Ron had kept the bitterness in his tone negligible.

" I don't know yet," Harry answered. He was almost desperate to change the topic. Him? A Quidditch player? It was an insane prospect, one he only considered in his fantasies. He knew that, as Ron had said, many would encourage this ambition. However, others believed that he was fit for even greater, better things. Harry found he was so caught up in all this that he had lost his own desires in the process.

" I have to get to work now," said Hermione, interrupting Harry's thoughts. He hadn't noticed how quickly she had eaten, and was vaguely reminded of the many times back in their Hogwarts days when Hermione had devoured her food in order to get to the library as soon as possible.

Ron must have been thinking along the same line. He checked his watch. " You still have an _hour_. Honestly, Hermione, could you give yourself a break?"

Hermione was pulling on her shoes at the door. " I'm just not careless when it comes to work," she answered, and although she had not directed the statement at anybody in particular, Ron's eyes narrowed.

She called goodbye and swept out the door, though Harry saw her struggle with her giant bulk of a bag. He had known her too long to not know she was up to something.

" She left her Apparating license," said Ron, pointing to the small card on the countertop. " If she gets caught, she's gonna be in trouble for sure."

" She doesn't Disapparate to work anyway," Harry pointed out. Hermione had always told them she hated Apparating into Diagon Alley because it was so crowded and she never had control over who she'd Apparate right into.

" She shouldn't walk all the way to Diagon Alley carrying all those heavy books," Ron said. His gaze was still on the license. 

She puts a spell on them to lighten her load, Ron, don't worry."

Ron simply nodded and went back to eating his food.

" I guess I should leave too then," Harry said, standing up. 

" What? What is it with you two?"

Harry grimaced. " Sorry Ron." He left his plate on the table and went to get his bag containing his files. 

" What is this? Don't leave your mess to me!" Ron gestured toward the uneaten food on Harry's plate. 

Harry opened the door. " It's your turn to do the dishes." He stepped outside and shut the door as he called to his unfortunate roommate, " Have a nice day!"

* * * * *

With his roommates gone, and a pile of dirty dishes stacked in the sink, Ron opened up the _Daily Prophet_.

The headlines had grown considerably unexciting since the Dark Lord's descent. Whatever news reminding the _Daily Prophet'_s readers of such horrible times were obviously being covered up. And that very morning, Ron, as well as the rest of the literate wizards of witches of the magical world, were to be satisfied with "Wizard Charged With Setting Inappropriate Charms on Chickens" and "House- Elf in Greenwich Caught Stealing".

Ron hastily flipped to the Jobs section and was greeted with many small "Wanted" ads – one for wanting strong wizards who are willing to risk their lives to test several potions on (for 50 galleons/hour), one for a designer job for a company that makes clothes for Goblins (for 12 galleons/hour), and one to clean the locker rooms at England's National Quidditch Stadium (for 8 galleons an hour). Ron certainly did not find any of these appealing, nor anything else listed. 

He sighed and turned the pages back to the front. He folded up the paper and placed it back on the counter. Then, something caught his eye – the name, 'Skeeter'. Rita, having been so threatened by Hermione's knowledge of her being Animagi, had promised to keep her quill down until she was to die (as sadistic as that was, it was true). 

As a lightening reflex, Ron picked up the paper and held it to his nose, his eyes wide in consternation. There, on the front page was a large article (about the chickens) written by " 20-year-old reporter, Laurel Skeeter".

" Wha --- ?" 

Was it just a coincidence? It had never occurred to Ron (or _anyone _he knew, for that matter) that Rita Skeeter had ever had children. It hadn't even crossed his mind that Rita had ever married. For in Ron's mind, who in the world would marry and have a child with such a –

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. 

Ron strode across the living room and swung open the door. Placed in front of him was a large box, taped neatly at the openings with what he recognized as Extra-Strength Spellotape. The package was, thusly, sent by somebody magical. 

Ron tried to pick up the box, but it was so heavy he felt his arms would rip off his body. He went on its other side and gave it a swift kick towards the inside of the flat, but that simply resulted in excruciating pain in his toe.

He ended up levitating the box with his wand, but even that took so much strain, magically, that he dropped the box on the living room floor with a thunderous bang. As he expected, Mrs. Pill's irritated and shouting voice was heard through the floor.

Ron shut the door (quietly) and approached the mysterious package. The top was scrawled with the address of the flat and was addressed to "Miss Hermione Granger". 

" Books," Ron muttered, giving the side of the box a soft kick.

* * * * *

The Ballycastle Bats came into the Magical Games and Sports office that afternoon when Harry was still poring over documents.

The rowdy Irishmen were yelling their greetings to people around the office, and when Ludo Bagman came in, they grew louder than ever. Harry had to admit that having that lot around made the working atmosphere considerably more cheerful.

Harry looked out the window, and for some reason, expected to see another flick of red. But the crowd below was just the top of a few pointed hats. 

" Hey Harry!"

Harry looked up to see the cheerful face of Seamus. 

" 'Lo Seamus," he answered wearily. " What's up?"

" Scrimmaged against Puddlemere United yesterday," he stated, " and I saw Oliver Wood. He sure was eager to see you when I told him you worked here."

" How is he?" Harry asked, recalling the obsessive, maniacal Oliver he knew back at Hogwarts.

Seamus laughed. " Still the same. Worse, actually."

Somebody with a thick Irish accent shouted for Seamus to come, so the two said their goodbyes and Harry went back to his documents.

Had Harry looked out the window again, he would've seen Ginny approach the Ministry building reticently, and seen her pace back and forth by the door before running into the building. 

Merely minutes after this happened, Harry felt a light tap on his shoulder, and was this time greeted by his roommate's red-haired sister.

" Lunch?" she asked in a quiet voice. She was smiling slightly. 

Harry accepted her offer gladly, although he was rather confused as to what exactly had compelled Ginny to be so friendly with him all of a sudden. Ginny herself was unsure of this as well – she had never felt so brave and uninhibited as she did now.

They stepped out of the office together (after suspicious eyes of Harry's co-workers had followed Ginny's every move). " Nice of you to ask me to lunch now," Harry told Ginny. " I wasn't even thinking about eating with all the work I've got to do."

" No problem," she said. " I was actually in the area."

This was partly true, as she had been searching for possible places where she could get a job. Ginny knew the Ministry rarely hired fresh-out-of-Hogwarts people or anybody without some sort of prior job experience. She had her mind set on working in one of the stores in Diagon Alley, because the summer months were usually busy and she'd make a decent amount of money this way. 

Unlike Ron had been a year ago, Ginny was keen on leaving the Burrow and heading out on her own. Mrs. Weasley, who had persisted on getting Ron out of the house, was on the contrary rather saddened that Ginny was moving out right away. 

They walked out of the Ministry building and into Diagon Alley, which was hot and sunny. 

" Where do you usually go for lunch?" Ginny asked Harry. 

" Usually? I go to the Leaky Cauldron for a sandwich, but … " 

He stopped short when he saw Hermione come out of Flourish and Blotts, looking somewhat surly. Harry called to her.

She seemed distracted, but greeted Harry and Ginny with a tired wave.

" Ginny? What are you doing here?" She didn't sound suspicious, but pleased.

Ginny grinned. " We were just out to get lunch." Hermione noted a hint of pride in Ginny's voice. But then again, the pride was well deserved. How many years had it taken for Ginny to sum up the courage to even speak to Harry? " Do you want to come?"

" Oh, I'm sorry. I can't. I was just on my way home … I was expecting a package." Hermione grinned. "You two should go have fun without me."

Harry pointed to the small alley behind Gladrag's. " You can Disapparate from there. It's nice and secluded."

Hermione nodded, then bade them goodbye. She continued to look rather distracted. 

" What's up with her?" Ginny asked, noticing her behavior had been slightly off.

" I dunno," Harry answered truthfully. He shrugged. " She's Hermione. She's almost always up to something."

Ludo Bagman leaned out of the window in front of Harry's desk and could see the figures of Ginny and Harry in the near distance. He was displeased to see the way both seemed to be enjoying themselves. Another disappointment was the way Hermione had left them so quickly. 

His secretary joined him at the window. " I dunno, Ludo. It looks like you'll be owing me some gold!"

As she trotted off jovially back to her desk, Ludo clenched his fist on the windowsill as he watched Ginny touch Harry's arm. He had lost a ridiculous amount of gold when he bet against Puddlemere United in the semi-finals two months ago (how in the world was _he_ to know about their new Keeper's strange but effective strategies?). He thought betting on the prospect of a romantic relationship between Harry and Hermione was a successful way to win back the lost gold (sure, he had been rather tipsy at the time, but as he always thought, those were the times he thought most clearly!). His plan, however, was slowly deteriorating, and before he knew it, his Gringotts account would be emptied of everything but air and his life in ruins like Miss Havisham's wedding cake.

Harry and Ginny disappeared into the crowd before Ludo could think of a way to stop them. 

* * * * *

Hermione reached the flat mere seconds after she Disapparated. She climbed the stairs in the building and readjusted the heavy strap of her bag that was cutting into her shoulder. She paused at the door to take a breath and half hoped to find Ron thumbing through the Jobs section of the _Daily Prophet_, or tying an application to the leg of an owl.

She opened the door, but was greeted by Ron lying on the sofa – a scene she had become too familiar with. He was, as she expected, reading _Hogwarts, A History._

" You're home early," he stated blatantly, barely lifting his eyes from the page.

A bit insulted by his indifference to her presence, Hermione answered stiffly, " I'm on my lunch break. I'll leave very soon."

Ron looked up from his book and saw Hermione looking around the flat. " That package came for you," he said, pointing to it.

" Oh, there it is. Good. Thank you for bringing it in – it's important." Hermione said nothing else and Ron made no inquiries. 

" You know," said Ron, " I haven't eaten any lunch yet. Have you?"

Hermione shook her head. 

" Well let's eat something now." Ron closed the book and sat up. " How much time to you have?"

" Nearly an hour," Hermione answered promptly. " I can eat lunch with you, sure." She said the latter with a smile.

Ron, with sufficient help from Hermione, conjured up enough food for the two of them, and they sat down at the table.

" Did you know," started Ron, stuffing potatoes into his mouth, " Rita Skeeter has a son – Laurel Skeeter or something like that."

Hermione chewed her food and looked at Ron thoughtfully. " Really?" She swallowed and seemed pensive for a moment. " She never mentioned it. How did you find out?"

Ron told her about the newspaper article he had inadvertently seen that morning. Hermione shrugged and went back to her food. " I didn't know that. And if this Laurel is writing about chickens, he really hasn't got much to gossip about, does he? I guess we won't have to worry too much about him."

Ron nodded. He certainly hoped so.

Hermione speared the sausage on her plate. " So … "

" I looked through the Jobs section this morning. I couldn't find anything," said Ron, his tone somewhat bland.

Feeling rather guilty, Hermione nodded. " Actually, I was wondering --,"

" Yeah?"

" – if you've learned anything interesting from _Hogwarts, A History_."

Ron laughed. " Oh yeah, loads. Did you know you can't Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts grounds?"

And the rest of the lunch went rather pleasantly.

* * * * *

A/N: Looks like Ludo won't be so lucky again … or will he?

Reference to Miss Havisham can be found in this chapter and she is respective 'property' of Mr. Charles Dickens. 


	5. Smelly Socks

To **Caderyn**: yes, something similar happened of _Friends_, but I'm not sure if that's how I thought of it. Things just come to me out of nowhere when I write, so I guess the 'got the keys'/'get the key' thing "inspired" the idea. (Laugh) Thanks for noticing! 

Special thank you to: **Jessica C Potter** who never fails to review a chapter. 

Chapter 5: Smelly Socks 

As Hermione flipped through the Daily Prophet one morning, she saw exactly what Ron had been talking about – this Laurel Skeeter person.

She stood patiently behind the wooden counter at _Flourish and Blotts_, the newspaper laid out in front of her, and she, leaning forwards propped up on her elbows. This was a posture strongly discouraged by her superior, but Hermione was too tired that day to really care.

She had been poring over books the previous night, trying to cram into her mind as much information as her fatigued self would allow. Hermione rubbed her eye absently and observed that despite the day's early hour, Diagon Alley was already rather crowded.

She returned her attention to Laurel's article, in which he had brought up the Psychology of a Hippogriff – a subject Hermione doubted somebody like Rita would take any sort of interest in.

The bell clanged softly at the door, and quickly, Hermione straightened her back. She was considerably relieved to see her customer was Harry.

" 'Morning Harry. What are you doing here?"

" I was on my way to work," he answered calmly, " and I wondered why you left the house so suddenly."

She stifled a yawn. " Just wanted to get here on time. There isn't anything wrong with that, is there?"

He eyed her carefully, absently noting her half-closed eyelids. When Hermione got defensive, it meant something was up.

Noticing Harry's suspicion, she hastily pointed out the paper to divert his attention. " I found him – Laurel Skeeter."

" Oh …" Harry approached the counter and read the subtitle beneath the headline, _Why do Hippogriffs attack?_ He smiled. " Well, we haven't got much to worry about, do we?"

" We certainly don't," said Hermione, beaming. " I don't think he's got his mother's gossip gene. He sounds positively _boring_."

Harry neglected to remind Hermione of her schoolgirl days when she'd launch into a _very_ thorough explanation of whatever academic topic was being discussed. Instead, he asked her for the paper.

" Sure," she said, handing it to him across the counter. " Looking for something?"

Harry thumbed through the pages. " Advertisements," he muttered.

" The Ballycastle Bats one for Butterbeer?" she asked, surprised. Harry nodded. " I didn't know it was released already."

" Ludo just told me yesterday – yeah, here it is." Harry set the paper on the counter and indicated a large advertisement of seven rowdy looking Irishmen in Quidditch robes clutching bottles and mead mugs overflowing with Butterbeer. _We're just batty about Butterbeer!_ ™  

Among them, Seamus Finnigan waved and winked, his sun-exposed arm wrapped around the neck of Ballycastle's Seeker.

Harry folded up the newspaper and checked the clock on the wall behind the counter. His face fell. " Time to go to work, I guess."

Hermione said goodbye and Harry stepped back into the bustling street, leaving her alone once again. The repetition of the tick-tock from the clock behind her lulled her. Her eyelids drooped and she leaned back on the counter once again. This was going to be quite a long morning.  

* * * * *

The Department of Magical Games and Sports and the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creaturesshared the same floor of the Ministry building. So aside from the Quidditch nuts who ran about the office area trying to scour a few free tickets (this included Ron), Harry would often, during a bathroom break, run into troubled bug-eyed house-elves with clothes and wizards pressing charges against the ghoul in their cellar. The office of the Department he worked in consisted of desks aligned in small cubicles about the size of Harry's old cupboard bedroom. Ludo's office was placed in the back, although he himself rarely inhabited it, as he liked to wander around the office for the entire eight hours he remained at work.

Thankful that the advertisement had successfully been released, Harry spent the rest of the day organizing the last of his documents, tying up loose ends, etc. Upon finishing, he stacked up the last of the documents and stood from his desk to stretch. 

His back and neck felt rather stiff from poring over his desk. He had to move around, so he sauntered meekly about the office, catching snatches of conversation in the adjacent desk cubicles.

He stopped at the bulletin board near the back of the office – a message board that posted the wizarding world's most prominent news regarding magical games and sports. Harry scanned his eyes across it, looking for his Butterbeer advertisement. He had to admit, he was rather proud of it.

Something else caught his eye, however. It was a small clipping from _The Daily Prophet_'s sports news section, titled _Pride of Portree Loses Seeker_.

Harry adjusted his glasses and started reading the article beneath the headline.

Pride of Portree, renowned Quidditch team of England, holder of two League wins, has announced their Seeker's resignation at the official press junket last night. Zacharias Handling, a 37-year-old who has been their Seeker for eleven years, claims to want to spend more time with his wife and eight children. Team Captain and Keeper, Meaghan McCormack (daughter of the legendary Portree Chaser, Catriona McCormack), quotes " [Handling] is a superb Seeker, and if wasn't for his obligation to his family, I'd refuse his resignation." She adds with pride, " He hasn't lost his touch." This statement, however, does not ignore the fact that Pride of Portree must find a replacement before the season's first game in October. Prospective professional Seekers will no doubt be vying for the spot.

" Harry!"

Startled, Harry turned around to see Ludo coming his way. 

" Finished, Harry?"

Ludo came bouncing over. He held a bunch of keys in his hand, indicating he was closing up the office.

Harry checked his watch – 8 o'clock.

" All done, Mr. Bagman."

" Good, good. I want to congratulate you on your superb job with the advertisement negotiations." Ludo beamed.

" Thank you, sir."

Ludo put his hand on Harry's shoulder. " You know Harry. It's card night again at the Leaky Cauldron. You up for it?"

Harry began to decline politely. " No, I don't think --,"

" Aw, come on! Don't be like that now, Harry. I think it's time you joined us!"

Ludo continued to bounce on the balls of his feet as Harry marveled at his aging boss who simply refused to give up a lifestyle he loved despite the troubles it had caused him.

" Alright," he heard himself say.

Ludo's face cracked into a smile. " Great! Splendid! Oh, get your galleons ready, Harry. It'll be quite a night."

* * * * *

The atmosphere in the Leaky Cauldron was as warm and lively as it always was. Harry left the cool summer night behind him when he entered the dry, stifling comfort of the pub. 

" Tom!" Ludo shouted to the aged wizard behind the counter. " I'll take two!"

Harry spotted Tom and smiled. The toothless man smiled back and waved, then turned to a woman standing next to him and held up two fingers. Harry saw who she was and quickly approached the bar.

" Ginny?"

Whether it was the hot atmosphere in the pub or the arrival of Harry, Ginny's cheeked were flustered scarlet. " Harry! What –,"

Harry pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the table in the far corner where his co-workers had assembled, most of them already finished with their second mug of mulled mead. " I just came to play a game or two." 

Ginny opened her mouth then closed it again quickly. She realized she still need to fetch two of whatever Ludo had ordered and picked up a mug from behind the counter. She watched as the thick concoction of alcohol and all things magical stirred out of her wand and into the mug. They grew quiet for a few seconds.

Harry spoke up. " So, you work here now?"

The air of the pub had somehow dried her throat and all she managed was a nod in reply.

Harry smiled. " Since when?"

Ginny placed two filled mugs on a tray, spilling some liquid over the rims. She looked up at Harry, her mind feeling numb and void. " Oh, I – erm – just started tonight." She glanced over at Tom, who was chatting with a witch at the other side of the bar. " Tom admits he's getting old. He says he needs some help around the inn, and I need a job and a place to stay. So … well, you know …" 

She suddenly felt stupid again.

Harry nodded slightly and took the two mugs. " I've got these," he said quietly.

Ginny began to protest but something else came out of her mouth. " When will you be finished?"

Now she felt her cheeks grow redder, but Harry seemed not to notice. Instead, he smiled, his eyes locking into hers. " When you do."

Ginny felt as though somebody had pinched her stomach as she watched him walk away from her, towards to the back of the room where he was greeted by many sets of suspicious eyes.

* * * * *

Hermione swung open the door with peeling yellow paint and entered her flat with a huge sigh of relief. She spotted Ron sitting at the kitchen table with _Hogwarts, A History_ before collapsing on the sofa.

Ron closed the book and shifted in his chair. " Hard day?"

Hermione groaned in reply, and Ron felt guilty once again. There was his roommate, working herself to near exhaustion while he remained at home reading her old book, dusting the windowsill, and occasionally being yelled at by the landlady. 

He stood and approached Hermione, who did not stir and opened one eye when his shadow loomed over her. 

" Yes, Ron?"

He considered what to say to her before plopping down on the sofa at her feet. " Need anything?"

Hermione lifted her arms and stretched. Ron saw the hem of her sensible sweater come up slightly, revealing a line of her stomach, before it came back down again. She took off her shoes and each one dropped with a thud on the floor that Ron had magically dusted the day before. " I don't think so … I'm just so tired, Ron."

Hermione closed her eyes again, letting her body sink into the cushions of the old sofa. She felt her hair snag at a spring that had somehow wormed its way out through the fabric, but she hardly cared and was too tired to do anything about it. 

She wiggled her toes beneath her immaculate cream-colored socks and Ron felt compelled to touch her feet … touch _her_. She was so weakened at this moment by everything she'd been going through – experiences Ron avoided. He decided it was time to take a more active role in finding a job. He simply couldn't let his best friend waste her energy away to support him.

But there was nothing for him to do at that very moment so he tickled the sole of her foot.

The leg twitched immediately.

He did it again.

It twitched again.

He did it harder.

Hermione's eyes snapped open. "_Ron_!"

" Hmm?"

He saw the corners of her mouth curl slightly upwards. " I'm tired."

" Sorry," he admitted.

She bit her lower lip then lay back down. No sooner had she done so when felt Ron touch her foot again.

Hermione began to protest, but Ron opened his mouth to speak. " _Relax_, Hermione."

She saw he was holding her foot and placing it on his lap. She breathed deeply to calm herself.

Ron began massaging the soles of her feet, running his fingers smoothly where her feet were most fatigued. In spite of herself, Hermione began to relax. She closed her eyes and felt her mind slowly grow numb. Her thoughts began to tie together in her mind as random scenes throughout the day played beneath her eyelids. She could feel herself slowly drifting … falling …

" Your feet smell."

Hermione snapped open her eyes once again. Her feet … smell? Oh, the injustice of such a statement!

" _What_?"

" Alright then, maybe it's your socks."

Hermione let out an exasperated groan through gritted teeth. " _Ron_! Grow up!" She sat up and looked at him. " It's probably _your_ feet that smell!"

Ron feigned an expression of being deeply offended. He straightened his legs and brought up his feet, covered in what Hermione assumed was at one point in time white socks. There was a considerably large hole where his big toe stuck out. " They're a bit old, I admit, but they don't smell."

Hermione couldn't fight the laughter that escaped her. " Ron, do you even know how to do laundry?"

" Erm …" Ron's mind suddenly went to the pile of less than clean clothes assembled in his laundry sack. " No … actually …"

" Well in case you haven't noticed," said Hermione, raising her eyebrows at him, " you'll run out of clean clothes to wear. So I'll show you."

She removed her feet from Ron's lap and sat properly on the couch beside him. " I'll need an example." 

Ron removed the torn sock off of his foot. He handed it to her indifferently.

" Right then. You take your wand, like so …" she lifted her wand to the sock. "_Purgarias_."

A shot of thick bubbles shot out of her wand's tip, followed by a gust of mist. The sock flopped once, and it was clean.

Hermione seemed slightly pleased with herself. She nodded at Ron. " You try."

Ron looked around, then grabbed the cream-colored sock from Hermione's left foot. He held it up daintily. "_Purgarias_."

The sock swiveled as bubbles surrounded it. The bigger gust of mist followed and the sock dropped out of Ron's hand. It lay, perfectly clean (or at least cleaner that it already was) on Ron's leg. He picked it up, sniffed it, and nodded in approval.

" You can do it with a whole load too," Hermione said. She stuck her wand back into her robes pocket, then reached over to take back her sock. 

Ron ignored her gesture and clutched it in his opposite hand, apparently impressed with his first attempt at laundering clothes.

" Ron, give me my sock," she inquired. She leaned closer to grab it, but Ron pulled his hand away, faced her, and grinned. It was hardly difficult to notice that her face was barely inches away from his. 

Hermione reached for her wand again, but she looked up to see Ron wave it in his other hand. 

The thought of Ron having reached behind her to grab it both pleased and embarrassed Hermione.

* * * * *

True to his word, Harry left his co-workers the second Ginny washed her last mug and left her place behind the counter. She was rather pleased to see how quickly he had left them, but was brought down slightly when he admitted to her on their way out the door that he wanted to get away from them as quickly as possible.

The prospect of going with him to his flat, however, cheered her up considerably. She was excited, not to mention a bit surprised, when he'd invited her the moment she finished her shift. They walked together through to well-lit streets of Muggle London, passing many other residents of the world as they carried on with their individual lives.

" How do you like life outside Hogwarts?" Ginny asked him as they passed a small café. 

Harry had his hands in his pockets. He'd kept his eyes on the sidewalk, but he lifted them up to meet hers upon her addressing him. " Well, it's been a year, but I'm still just starting to get used to it." He fiddled with nothing inside his pockets and continued. " It's just hard, I guess. Life without Hogwarts."

Ginny grinned at the sidewalk. It was nice to hear him speak to her like they were … friends.

She inquired no further questions for the rest of the trip. The silence was slightly uncomfortable to her, but she had to admit that the fact that she was simply standing next to Harry was sufficient. His silence, for whatever reason, only made her want to know him more – want to figure him out and be able to someday become a person in his life he could trust. He was so nice, yet so quiet. She knew she'd always be willing to listen if he was willing to say.

They reached the flat building, and walked up the stairs (quietly) to greet the door with peeling yellow paint. 

" Beware," said Harry wisely as he inserted his key into the rusted keyhole.

Ginny frowned. " Of what?"

Harry turned the knob and pushed his way in. " Of Ron and Hermione."

The latter two looked rather civilized. Ron was at the table with _Hogwarts, A History_ opened before him. Hermione sat across from him, quietly sipping tea.

There was only one odd aspect about the scene that lay before Harry and Ginny, and that was that there were bubbly soapsuds _everywhere_.

They clung to Hermione's curls, Ron's t-shirt, the torn fabric of the sofa, and even the ceiling.

Upon hearing the door open, Hermione and Ron looked up. Ron spotted Ginny immediately and his eyebrows shot up to the sky. "_Ginny_?"

" What happened?" asked Harry, ignoring him and looking around the flat, both amazed and confused. 

" Laundry," Ron and Hermione answered simultaneously. Ron's eyes averted to Ginny, then to Harry, as though some brotherly instinct within him was forming the worst conclusion that could possibly exist.

Hermione smiled at Ginny. " Hello, Ginny. How are you? Do you want some tea?"

Ginny smiled right back, ignoring her brother's suspicious stare. " No thank you."

She suddenly felt rather shy, as she always had around the three of them. Harry, Hermione, and Ron – the tenacious trio, glued to each other for life with their impenetrable friendship. And there was Ginny, outside them, while they passed secrets over her head. She never really desired to be a part of that, for she knew such a prospect was near impossible. Ginny just wished she didn't have to feel so uncomfortable around the three of them.

The evening, however, eased on with tension (on Ron's part) and sympathy (from Hermione). They ate their previous night's leftovers for supper, and proceeded to play Exploding Snap, which resulted in each of them singeing their fingers and laughing. Ron seemed to keep one eye on Ginny the entire night, and grew pink when Harry nursed her hand briefly by rubbing it after one particularly large explosion. One look from Hermione, however, was enough for Ron to desist.

By midnight, they'd tired out. Ron stacked up the cards, while Hermione fixed the burn marks on the surface of the coffee table.

Ginny stood from the couch and headed for the door. " I should go … thanks, everyone. I had fun." She stuck her hands into her pockets timidly.

Hermione looked up from the table. " Oh, no, Ginny, don't go out there by yourself … it's so late …" 

Ron raised an eyebrow heavily at Hermione. He was about to open his mouth, most likely to offer walking his sister home instead of suffering the alternative …

" I'll go." Harry rose from his seat and slipped over the back of the sofa to approach Ginny at the door. She opened it and stepped out, waving at Ron and Hermione and mouthing _bye_, then disappearing, followed by Harry.

Ron gripped his card stack and glared at Hermione, who ignored him and hummed.

* * * * *

Ginny did not arrive back to the Leaky Cauldron until well past midnight. Tom was extinguishing the last of the soft-glowing candles, slowly fading the pub away from vision. She spotted Ludo Bagman pushing in his chair while somebody beside him reassembled a deck of cards.

She passed them and made her way up the stairs, feeling her legs carry her as if toward heaven, her head amidst a cloud of ecstasy. She and Harry were finally on what one would consider 'good terms'. She shook her head, smiling at how she's spent her evening – at his flat then on a walk back to the pub, talking with him, laughing with him.

Ludo eyed her in her state, and preoccupation grew within him. His mind solely on his disappearing bank account, he decided it was time to take more action.

* * * * *


	6. Fifty Golden Snitches

Thanks everyone for your beautiful reviews. I love them all – especially one very, _very_ long one I got … 

Chapter 6: Fifty Golden Snitches 

The Department of Magical Games and Sports was frantic.

Harry stepped into the usually placid atmosphere of the office, only to see all his co-workers fretting about. He even spotted Ludo Bagman looking a little distressed.

" Harry!" Sinclair Abbot, Ludo's secretary, came rushing over, nearly trodding on the hem of her robes in her haste. " We've got a … erm, _situation_."

" What happened?"

" Well I'm sure you've heard about Pride of Portree losing their Seeker."

Harry recalled the article he'd read the previous day and was suddenly relieved he had decided to go up to that bulletin board that day. He didn't even have to feign knowledge when he nodded.

Sinclair continued, now talking very quickly. " Well, the Department has agreed to help Portree file resumes of the … _hopefuls_. You know, the replacements. Unfortunately, Quidditch season begins –,"

" In four months," Harry interrupted.

" That's right, and they need a Seeker almost right away. So the interviews are today and …"

Sinclair suddenly grew quiet, and Harry frowned. " And what? I can handle helping out with this … interview process."

Ludo's secretary cleared her throat and shifted her eyes. " Well, you don't exactly need to help out, Harry."

" I don't?" Harry looked around the office, where everyone else was organizing desks and clearing space. His frown grew deeper. " What are you on about, Sinclair?"

" Ludo told me to tell you, Harry. He wants you in charge of the _whole_ process."

* * * * *

Harry had been placed at the end of the table, beside Ludo Bagman. They, and the other Department workers sitting at the table, hastily marked their interview parchments as they tore their eyes off what seemed to be the two-hundredth prospective Seeker they'd interviewed that day.

" We'll let you know. Thank you!" Bagman waved towards the door jovially, smiling. Harry, however, noticed a significant drop of energy in his booming voice.

When the interviewee left them, Bagman stood up. " Well, I suggest we wrap it up for today. I'd say we've gotten a lot done, eh?"

Harry dropped his quill on the table and looked at the tip of his ink-stained hands. Sinclair collected the papers in a green folder, yawning heavily.

* * * * *

" _Four years, mate. Four years I've been a Seeker, and I'll say it here that I'm a damn good one too_."

Ron and Hermione blinked. 

" That was only about the six-hundredth person we'd interviewed that day," said Harry to finish up his imitation of a particularly burly prospective Seeker he'd encountered that day. "And naturally, we'd heard pretty much the same thing from hundreds of other people." He brought his fork to his mouth and bit off his carrots.

The interview process had worn him out, and now his throat was sore.

" That's stupid," said Ron, reaching for the bowl of mashed potatoes. " The Ministry should just bring the whole lot of them onto the pitch, release a Snitch, and the first one to get it should get the job."

Hermione stopped eating, looked at Ron thoughtfully, and said. " That's not a bad idea." 

Ron beamed.

" Well, we're gonna put them out on the pitch at the end of the week," said Harry. " But it'll be tedious. We're checking for good flying skills and physical strength."

"Basically to test if your interviewees weren't bullshitting when they bragged about their talent," piped Ron. Hermione scowled in his general direction.

" The both of you can come watch if you'd like," Harry said quickly.

Hermione speared her potatoes and looked at him. " Are you allowed to invite us like that?"

Harry nodded. " Ludo's put me in charge of the whole process. Besides, _you_ won't hurt anyone. Maybe Ron might get aggressive, but …"

" Pride of Portree has been the Cannon's second-biggest rival since 1807!" Ron exclaimed, abandoning his meal. " Too right, I might get aggressive."

" Are you coming?" Harry asked him hopefully.

" Yeah." Ron nodded quickly and shoved a chunk of potatoes into his mouth.

Harry turned to Hermione. "How about you?"

" I can't," she replied quickly. " I've got to work."

Ron raised an eyebrow. " Oh, take off a day – mind you, it won't kill you to take a break once in a while."

Hermione pursed her lips. " I'll talk to my boss."

And there was no changing Hermione's mind when she pursed her lips.

* * * * *

Hermione arrived outside the Ministry building the next day, where the Knight Bus was parked out front. Harry, who had come earlier to get the trip organized, was waiting for her.

They joined Harry's co-workers who were loading the bus already. Hermione adjusted her heavy bag, as it was mildly discomforting the way its straps cut into her shoulder. 

Harry allowed her to step onto the bus before him, and saw the pained look on her face. He pointed his wand at her bag and muttered, " _Levace."_

" Thank you," she said, and hopped up the stairs before he could ask her why she was carrying such a heavy load. 

The Knight Bus looked quite different from when Harry last rode it, back when he was 13 and he'd run away from his house after blowing up his aunt. The beds that had lined the sides of the interior were gone. Towards the front of the bus was an array of loveseats, placed neatly in a circular form. There was an unused fireplace behind the driver's seat. The spiral staircase, Harry saw, remained.

Hermione stepped towards the rear of the bus, where Harry saw three round tables with chairs scattered around what he supposed was a kitchen.

Harry sat down at one of the tables next to Hermione. 

" Where's Ron?" he asked quickly before she could whip out a book and immerse herself in it.

" He'll be here, I'm sure. I _told_ him we'd be late, but he told me he couldn't find his other sock. I said I had half a mind to leave the flat without him and he told me to do just that."

" Okay," Harry replied.

Ludo hopped onto the bus. Despite the fact that it was 7:00 in the morning, he was quite exuberant.

" Alright ladies and lasses," he boomed. " We're ready to leave. Nobody's forgotten anything, have they?"

Hermione gasped. "Oh, no. I shouldn't have left without Ron!"

The engine of the Knight Bus roared to life, and the driver, who was still Ernie, reach for the handle to close the door.

Suddenly, Harry spotted the top of Ron's head through the window, then heard his large feet clunking up the bus steps.

His hair was slightly disheveled, but otherwise, he looked fine. He approached Harry and Hermione as the doors of the bus hissed and closed.

" You'd better hold onto something," Harry advised.

" Huh?"

_BANG_!

* * * * *

The moor the bus popped into was completely deserted, not unlike the one Harry, Ron, and Hermione had been to for the World Cup they'd attended before their fourth year.

Summer had swept its arid flavor over the ground, and light green grass spread like wildfire for acres.

Supposedly, the Quidditch stadium was quite magnificent. Hermione did not neglect to give a small history of it as the Knight Bus rolled and bumped through the countryside.

" Built in 1292," she said, to not just Harry and Ron, but anybody who'd listen. " There's Muggle-Repelling Charms all around it. It's supposed to look like a large communal outhouse – one that's fallen into despair – but that's only to the Muggle eye, of course. Apparently, it was quite beautiful when it was built. The structure itself is supposed to have echoed the architecture of the Roman Coliseum."

Off the bus, however, Hermione and everyone else seemed to notice that the magical Quidditch stadium actually looked like a despaired communal outhouse of extraordinary proportions. The top of the stands surrounding the pitch loomed over everyone, casting them in shadow. Peeled paint and heavily chipped columns adorned the stadium.

" Would that be the Roman Coliseum as it is today?" Ron asked, looking up at it amusedly.

" Well … of course, in that time period, it was the Department of Magical Games and Sports that maintained to stadium …" Hermione said dubiously.

" Still is," Bagman's secretary muttered as she walked past them toward the stadium entrance. 

The Knight Bus vanished with a pop, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione proceeded to follow everybody into the pitch. 

The pleasant sunshine cast its rays over the slightly patterned grass of the pitch. A horde of men and women were standing in various colored Quidditch robes at the end of the field.

" Hello, hello!" Ludo exclaimed jovially, waving his arms at the prospective Seekers and beckoning them to an elongated table at the sideline. 

Harry took his seat at the end of the table. Ron sat next to him, looking excited. Hermione looked around the field, possibly still contemplating how anything could fall into such despair. She eventually placed herself in a seat beside Ron.

Ludo was still standing. " I'd like to welcome you all to the fifth and last day of your audition!" The Seekers cheered instantly. Ludo waited for them to settle down before continuing. " Today we will put each of you through a rigorous test of strength and physical ability. Keep in mind that we will judge your talents according to anything and everything you do on this field."

The players shifted impatiently. Harry could've bet 20 galleons each of them were just itching to mount their broomsticks. He understand the feeling perfectly and recalled how unbearable it was to stand through Wood's long speeches when all he wanted to do was fly …

" Harry Potter is the head of this process," Harry heard Ludo say. He snapped out of his memory and saw that every Seeker was gaping at him. One skinny man with blonde hair turned to a fellow next to him and mouthed something.

Ludo continued. " He and this panel of Ministry officials will judge your performances. Also, the current members of the Pride of Portree will be present."

Through the opening from the end of the stadium, Harry saw six people in deep-purple robes emerge. The last two, who were the most muscular of them all, were dragging an extremely large trunk with brass hinges.

At the head of the group was a woman who looked no more than three years older than Harry. When she turned to check how the trunk was moving along, Harry read 'McCormack' on the back of her robes. 

" Ah, yes! And here they are. Two-time League winner from Isle of Skye, Pride of Portree!"

The prospective Seekers cheered as loud as they could. The trunk was dragged onto the sideline. 

The girl, 'McCormack', spoke up. " Hello everyone. I'm Meaghan McCormack, Captain of the Prides."

Harry felt Ron kick him beneath the table. " _Captain_!" he whispered so nobody could hear. " She's barely older than _us_!"

Meaghan continued. " Along with the team and panel, I will be looking for strength in physicality and mentality. I have certain expectations for a Seeker. We've just lost one of the greatest Seekers I have ever had the privilege of working with, but I am sure that one of _you_," she cast her eyes through the crowd, " possesses the integrity to take his retired position and help us, the Prides, to a third League victory next summer!"

She was certainly a talented motivator, as each Seeker gripped their brooms tightly. Some prepared to kick off by swinging their leg over the handle.

" Donnelly here will release fifty Golden Snitches," Meaghan gestured to one of the muscular men who had dragged the trunk. He was standing by it, awaiting her command. "On my whistle, you will fly to compete for your captures. The first fifty Seekers to hit the ground with a Snitch in their hand will make it into the next round." She nodded at Donnelly who gave the trunk a clunky kick. The lid shot open and Harry caught a glimpse of fifty Golden Snitches dart upwards and disappear into the air. A second later, Meaghan blew her whistle.

A hundred Seekers shot towards the sky with one large _woosh_. 

Harry craned his neck and squinted to see tiny specks darting to and fro. The glare of the sun was making it difficult to see everything, but he managed to make out the ferocity of the competition that played over his head. He watched as some dots moved aimlessly around, while others played a different tactic by staying in a single spot to look for the Snitch.

" Mr. Potter?" 

Harry straightened his neck. Meaghan McCormack was facing him from the other side of the table.

" I'm Meaghan," she said, extending a tanned and freckled hand. " It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Potter."

" Oh, er, Harry." He was too tolerant to be uncomfortable when her eyes traveled up his face to his scar. He shook her hand quickly. " It's nice to meet you too."

Harry was suddenly aware of Ron, who looked quite eager to shake her hand too. " This is Ron Weasley. He's, er, an … acclaimed critic of the sport of Quidditch, and he'll be helping out with the judging and elimination process."

Meaghan shot him a warm smile and shook his hand as well. Perhaps it was just Harry's imagination, but he thought he heard a small tut come from the general vicinity of where Hermione was sitting.

" And this is Hermione Granger," Harry said, gesturing to her. " She's … er …"

" I work in a bookstore. It's a pleasure to meet you." Hermione extended her, a grim smile etched on her face.

Meaghan shook her hand and turned back to Harry. " I'm glad that the Ministry is choosing somebody of your stature to head this process. The last audition we had for new Chaser was a disaster"

 " What happened?" Harry asked.

She laughed lightly. " The Ministry man knew loads about Quidditch and sports. He was quite a brilliant, actually. Important too. But he'd never ridden a broomstick in his life, let alone play Quidditch. He didn't have a clue how judge performance. But from what I hear, you're quite a fantastic Seeker yourself, so I know I don't have to worry."

They suddenly heard a massive crashing sound. The judges looked up to see a Seeker falling to the ground without a broomstick.

Before anyone else could do anything, Hermione jumped to her feet and pointed her wand skywards. " _Impedimenta Corpus_!" 

The body seemed to stop in midair. At that moment, Donnelly swung himself onto his broomstick and shot into the air towards the Seeker. For underneath, he lifted the body, placed it onto a large shoulder, and soared back down.

The Seeker reached the ground and in his left hand, Harry saw fluttering wings protruding from between the fingers.

Only forty-nine Snitches to catch.

The time passed nonchalantly. By noon, Hermione had finished her first book and was starting another one she'd brought with her. Thirty-five Snitches had so far been caught. 

A friendly argument erupted between Ron and Meaghan over which Quidditch team was better – the Prides or the Cannons.

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing how noisy Ron got every time he passionately defended the Cannons. She honestly couldn't think of anything else he defended so strongly.

" They've won the League twenty-one times. Now, I hate to say this, but that's nineteen times more than the Prides have won," said Ron.

Hermione was surprised that Meaghan seemed to take no offense to his words. She laughed and shook her head. " Yes, Ron. A whole nineteen times. And when was the last time they won?"

Ron narrowed his eyes. " 1892."

Meaghan had a nice clear laugh, and when she smiled, her whole face etched a cheery and jovial expression. 

It was at that moment that Hermione felt a twinge of resentment towards the fact that she had never taken much of an interest in Quidditch herself. Ron and Harry had, many times, engaged in conversations about Quidditch teams and tactics and other things about the sport. They had corrected her many times before when she used the wrong Quidditch term.

It was because of this that Hermione and her friends were forced to find other topics of discussion. Sure, they shared many moments of deep speculation, opinion, and theory. Yet Hermione couldn't help but feel left out when the topic of Quidditch slipped into the conversation.

And here was Meaghan McCormack who had only known Ron for a few hours and already he seemed to have taken a liking to her. On the other hand, Ron had hated Hermione for over a month before they'd become friends.

The Pride of Portree Captain was quite a charismatic girl. Perhaps she is the kind of person Ron likes, Hermione thought.

Feeling put out, Hermione returned her attention to her book and tried to block out the sounds of Ron's laughter.

* * * * *

A/N: Okay, I'm ending this chapter here. Stay tuned for more to come!


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